Companion
by Lehcar Kutsick
Summary: Tim and Jethro had a bit of a rocky start. A bite wound and a bullet wound aren't exactly great foundations to start a friendship.


Just another idea to see if I can get my muse back. She's slowly returning, and maybe (hopefully) I can return to writing _Escort._

Anyways, the idea of the relationship between Tim and Jethro the dog has been a plot idea in the back of my mind for months, and I figured it would be a good way to get the juices flowing.

Oh, and Abby lovers? Enjoy: I tried to take a different angle than "insensitive Abby forces killer dog on poor, pitiful, injured McGee".

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**The First Night**

He had decided he wanted a companion to make the nights alone in his apartment a little less… well, lonely. Like everything in his life, Tim had done the research beforehand: he knew what the pet weight limit for his complex was; he knew approximately how much money per month he would end up spending on food and necessities; he had even contacted a local dog walker about her scheduling and prices. When he envisioned himself with a pet he thought of morning runs, playing at the park, and hunkered down together on the couch.

When Timothy McGee decided to get a dog, this was not what he expected. While he was indeed curled up on his couch, his new pet was not with him. He had tied the dog's leash to the leg of the desk, well out of reach. The shepherd had lain down on the floor, head between his paws, seemingly asleep. Even though the dog was both asleep and restrained, Tim still felt uneasy. His arm still ached from where he had been bitten and that pain kept him on edge. What if the dog attacked him again? What if he lost it again and the leash wasn't enough to keep him back? What if the desk leg snapped? Could Tim reach his gun in time again? As he thought this, his hand shifted subtly over to where he had laid his SIG on the end table.

He hadn't even wanted the beast. Abby had forced the responsibility on him! When she first told him (told, not asked) he was shocked. He never expected her to ask him to do something like this! Sure, she was demanding, the entirety of NCIS knew that. But everyone, including Team Gibbs, put up with it because it was impossible *not* to love Abby. So when she had asked him to take in the dog, with puppy dog eyes to rival the actual dog's look, Tim didn't immediately pull out a trump card.

"Why do I have to take him?" Tim asked grumpily. "Why can't he just be put up for adoption?"

That's when Abby's face grew harder. "McGee, he's a trained military dog. He attacked someone. Who in their right mind is going to take him?"

"Oh, so it's perfectly fine for me to take him… the man he attacked!" Tim scoffed.

"But you know why he attacked," Abby explained. "Jethro is a well-trained dog, he knows to listen to orders, but he wasn't in his right mind."

"He still bit me!"

Abby was silent for a long moment, stroking the fur below the dog's bandage. "Do remember that case last year, the one where the female lieutenant was kidnapped?"

Tim frowned as he thought. "You mean Lieutenant Carter? Yeah, she was drugged and kidnapped from a bar; the guy was going to rape her."

"Well, remember how she got away, taking the man's knife with her?"

"Yeah, but Abs, what does this-?" He fell silent at the glare she sent him.

"And do you remember how she stabbed another woman that surprised her, even though the woman was trying to help?"

"Yeah, that's what got us on the case in the first place."

"But did you blame her for stabbing the girl?" Abby asked.

"Well, no!" Tim argued angrily, upset that Abby would suggest that. "She was frightened and drugged; no one came blame her for how she reacted!"

"So why can't that same logic be applied here?" Abby challenged, standing up to face Tim. She crossed her arms and glared at him, the dog leaning against her legs in an attempt to get her to pet him. "This poor thing went through having his owner killed, being drugged, and then being shot but instead of being shown any form of pity and being taken to a proper facility to get real medical help he was dragged back here like he meant nothing more than the victim's shirt! And instead of allowing me to take him to a vet, Gibbs made me keep him here, locked up in a tiny crate so by the time I got to take him to a proper vet, his wounds were infected because he was licking them because he doesn't know any better! Now he's going to take twice as long to heal. To top it off he gets to go to a shelter with an attack on his record and medical issues. He'll be lucky if his stiches can be taken out three weeks from now… right in time from him to be euthanized!" Her rant clipped off as tears formed in hers eyes. She dropped back down beside the shepherd, burying her face in his course fur.

At the time Tim had agreed to take the dog if only to get Abby to stop crying. Now however, as the earlier conversation echoed in his head, he began to question his decision making paradigm, and if he had a few logic flaws in his thinking.

A loud whine broke the silence, and Tim's eyes snapped to the shepherd. The dog had rolled over in his sleep, and apparently had aggravated his wounds. He was awake now. Softer whines tore through his throat as he tried to nuzzle his side. Eventually he gave up. The dog laid his head back down, now laying on his side with his cheek pressed to the floor. His brown eyes stared listlessly into space. When Tim's own arm throbbed again, the agent made the connection.

"I guess we're both due for our meds," Tim said aloud. He hesitated for another moment, still reluctant to move. He didn't move until the dog let out yet another whine of pain. Tim heaved himself off the couch to head towards the kitchen. He found and took his own pills before picking up the small bottle Abby had given him when she dropped off the beast. He figured out how many he was supposed to use – apparently just one, but damn that was a big pill! – and brought out a piece of cheese to disguise the meds. He walked back around the counter into his living room.

He stopped when he realized the dog's eyes, which had been glazed over in pain, were now focused on him. Tim froze, too terrified to approach the animal. But the dog made no aggressive moves. Actually, he made no moves at all. He only watched Tim with hazy eyes, whimpering slightly. Locking gazes with the shepherd, Tim noticed that in that moment the dog looked every bit the victim Abby had described him as.

"Alright you," he mumbled, "med time." He began to approach his new ward, but another, louder whine escaped the dog. Tim stiffened slightly as the dog shifted again, moving to stand unsteadily. His eyebrows shot up when, instead of moving forward to threaten him, the shepherd crawled backwards, head hung and tail between his legs. Tim took another experimental step forwards, and the dog retreated further away, sneaking underneath the desk. His chocolate eyes shimmered with an emotion Tim was shocked to see: fear.

The dog was scared! Tim felt a wave of surprise tinted with guilt hit him. As much as he was scared of the dog, the shepherd was just as terrified.

The agent slowly knelt on the floor in front of the dog. "Hey," he said softly. "I know we didn't start off on the best of terms, but you can't really blame me." In the back of his mind, Tony was laughing at him for speaking as if the beast could understand, but he refused to resort to demeaning baby talk over an animal! "So let's try again. Come here, so I can help you."

The dog didn't budge. He remained hunched over, eyeing his new master warily. Tim tried a new tactic. He held out his hand with the cheese in it. "Jethro, come," he calling the shepherd by its name for the first time. The dog's tail and head picked up slightly, his eyes questioning. Tim tried again. "You might be named after I-take-orders-from-nobody Gibbs, but you are also a trained officer. So we'll try this one more time. Jethro, come here."

This time the shepherd responded, inching forward slowly until his head was in easy reach of Tim's hand. "Here you go," Tim said, placing the cheese on the floor in front of the dog. His new roommate sniffed the treat suspiciously, and then gulped it down without a second thought. He raised his head and sat back on his haunches, now eye level with the kneeling agent.

"Alright you," Tim began, "I mentioned before we had a rocky start, and I guess neither one of us is truly to blame for it. So, if we're going to live together, we need to set a truce. I don't do anything to hurt you, and you don't hurt me. Got it?" The dog didn't respond other than to sniff the air as if trying to detect any more treats lurking about. "If you knew how, I'd say we could shake on it."

Apparently someone in the K9 training program thought it would be amusing to teach the basics, childish tricks to his trainees. At the word "shake", the German shepherd sat up a bit straighter, wincing slightly, and held out a paw. Tim grinned, acknowledging how ridiculous he was acting, and accepted the paw. "Ok then," Tim said. "It's a deal… Jethro."


End file.
